


Marriage Prospects

by franscats



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Sentinel Thursday Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franscats/pseuds/franscats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim takes a few moments to exam his life, the loft and his relationship with Blair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marriage Prospects

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the Sentinel Thursday Challenge #381- Prospect.  
> It is pre-slash.

It was early spring, still cold and definitely damp when Jim parked his truck and started back up Prospect toward the loft. As a cop and ex ranger he was to some extent always aware of his surroundings, as a sentinel he was even more aware, but it was rare that he looked at his home with anything but tired eyes.

Not since he bought the loft when he first got out of the army, did he even consider where he lived, but something this night made him stop and look around. It was almost as if there was something special in the air this night that spoke of remembering the past and looking to the future. Perhaps part of the feeling came from the fact that it was this day so many years ago that he sat across from the previous owners of 852 Prospect Avenue, apartment 307 and the real estate agents, and put down the money to buy his apartment. Looking up at the windows of the loft, he let a small nostalgic smile soften his tired features. The loft was home. Maybe it was a sentinel thing, Blair would declare it was (but than Blair thought everything was a sentinel thing) but Jim didn’t think so. There was something special about buying and owning your own home. 

Shaking his head to clear it of the sentimentality and nostalgia Jim gave one last glance to the sign at the end of the street that said Prospect Avenue and turned entering the building.

The elevator wasn’t working, again, but for once Jim didn’t seem to mind as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, keys in hand. Letting himself into the loft, he looked around, scanning for signs of intrusion, as he always did, and then let himself take a second look a bit more critically. At one time, the place had been what he called utilitarian, and others might call sterile. When Carolyn had moved in she had brought some color to the loft but after their divorce it had somehow returned to that bare state. Again, Blair would say it was sentinel thing, Jim could almost hear Blair’s words, “You were predisposed to prefer a low impact environment because your senses were heightened, even if offline.” And Jim had to concede that might just be true. The loft was a much needed respite when he came back online. Of course, the loft looked nothing like that now.

Blair had done some decorating, softening the look. There were native masks, easy lighting, candles, and plants around. All things to soothe a sentinel’s overstressed senses. Hell, last time Jim wanted to paint the walls in the living room, Blair had insisted on picking the color, one that “would relax a sentinel’s tired senses.” Jim had envisioned some horrible jungle green and had balked at the idea, but Blair had picked soft earthy colors, and Jim had admitted the colors did help him relax in a way that his choice, blaring white (which Blair had vetoed vociferously) did not. 

Sighing, Jim hung up his jacket and tossed his keys in the basket by the door before removing his holster. Keeping to habit, he went and put away his gun and then went to the kitchen to start dinner. It was his night to cook, and as far as he knew, Blair would be home tonight. He had no date that Jim was aware of. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t dated anyone in a long time. Jim hadn’t either but Jim didn’t for a special reason. He had fallen in love with his very male roommate, and though he might get some satisfaction from a woman, he was not one to use women for needs his hand could deal with.

Turning his mind back to the task of cooking, he looked at the salmon steaks he was seasoning with tomatoes, onions, lemon and olive oil, readying them for the oven before starting to cook some flavored rice and chopping vegetables. Blair liked baked fish, rice and veggies and Jim had gotten used to cooking foods that were a bit healthier. He wasn’t ready to give up Wonderburger or start a tofu diet but a lot of Blair’s foods were pretty good – not that he would admit it.

Getting the food underway, Jim turned to the fridge and pulled out a cold beer, taking a large swallow as he turned and surveyed the loft again. His eyes again took in the furnishings, the furniture that Blair had rearranged, babbling something about Feng Shui and negative vibes, then his eyes turned back to the food he was cooking; food that was healthier than anything he had ever eaten - before Blair. Finally, his sharp eyes targeted the pictures on the book case. They were of him and Blair fishing, camping and one of them at Rafe’s birthday dinner at a bar down on First Avenue. When Carolyn had moved in she had put out pictures but when Carolyn left she had taken the pictures and trappings with her. But there were pictures again. 

Furnishings! Food! Pictures! 

Putting down his bottle, Jim went into the living room and stood in the center of the room, his mind finally grasping the conclusion he had been avoiding. He was married, again – to Blair.

They lived together, worked together, played together, ate together. There was only one thing they weren’t doing together, but Jim shied away from that thought, not quite ready to deal with the idea of male/male sex. “Shit,” he stated, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile that tilted the corners of his lips up, as his eyes roamed the room, while thinking about Blair’s lectures about fat, cholesterol, donuts and Wonderburgers. “I’m henpecked.” 

Turning back to the kitchen, Jim checked on the food, before grabbing some plates to set the table, all the while considering that his hairy little roommate was his wife? Husband? Objectively, he decided he should just be saying, “Yes, honey,” and tuning him out every time Blair complained about his eating habits. Chuckling at the idea, Jim grabbed another beer as he finished cooking, listening to Blair’s footsteps as he came down the hallway, before the door opened, and the anthropologist entered, bouncing in, a bundle of energy.

“Hi Jim,” he began, dropping his backpack on the floor and hanging his jacket. “I hope you are not making something with too much grease,” he stated, heading into the kitchen to get a look at dinner.

Jim turned and looked into the face of his partner. “Of course not, honey,” he answered and watched Blair stop and frown, tilting his head in speculation, at the unusual phrasing.

“You okay, Jim?” he asked, his voice speculative.

“Yes, honey,” Jim answered and laughed softly as Blair took the beer bottle from Jim’s hand.

“Um, Jim, how many of these have you had?”

“Two Sandburg, I am not drunk,” Jim answered, gazing into the sapphire blue eyes, and thinking maybe male/male sex might not be too bad. “And if you are going to be a nagging wife, let it be about the food, not the alcohol, okay?”

“Nagging wife?” Blair asked softly, wondering what chemicals Jim might have come in contact with that day.

“Yes, wife. Look around Chief, we are married.” Jim swung his arm around indicating the loft and Blair stopped at the statement and frowned, his gaze following Jim’s movements.

“Well, I guess we are in some respects,” he began cautiously, butterflies flying around his stomach as something he thought he could never have suddenly became eminently possible. “Would it bother you?”

“Not if it wouldn’t bother you,” Jim countered and Blair took a step closer to his sentinel.

“There is the marital sharing,” Blair said softly and reached past Jim to turn off the oven thinking, “to hell with dinner," before reaching up to caress Jim's cheek. "You sure about this Jim?"

"About this? I've never...but I am sure about us." 

Blair smiled, "That's all that matters, lover."


End file.
